The Seven Times Hermione Granger Felt Love
by megalowkey
Summary: A collection of scenes in which Hermione's life was changed by the love (romantic, friendship, and familial, alike) she was given.
1. Jeremy Gayle

The first time Hermione felt loved by someone was when she met Jeremy Gayle. Jeremy was in Hermione's class in when they were both nine and they were friends. While the other kids - especially the girls - made fun of Hermione for her bushy hair or the way her nose was always stuck in a book or how her hand shot up every time she knew the answer to a question in class, Jeremy did not. Jeremy was like her. He preferred drawing and solving math equations that no other nine year old could understand. Hermione could read their math textbooks over and over again and she still could not comprehend the problems Jeremy seemed to excel at. She could go through an entire notebook drawing the same picture of the same tree, yet Jeremy's trees were always fuller and more realistic.

And yet, Hermione was never jealous. She would come into school every morning with another theory about a math problem and he would chuckle. She would ask him how he always had the right answer. Did he study every waking moment? Did he cheat?

"Math just makes sense," he would say. "There's always just one right answer. The numbers tells me the answer - I just have to find out how to get to it."

This infuriated Hermione. How could she get better at something that was instinctual? When she would turn red in the face concentrating, Jeremy would force her textbook or notebook closed and smile at her.

"Where does the rain come from?" he would ask. Or, "what food do elk eat?" "what is the Prime Minister's position on healthcare?" and any other subject that Hermione had extensive knowledge on. She would answer him flawlessly, of course. She knew a lot about a lot of things, but did not see why he should care?

It was not until years later, over summer holiday before Hermione's third year at Hogwarts, that she finally asked him.

"Jeremy, you have to stop changing the subject," she huffed as he closed her notebook. They had both been sketching a bird's nest in a tree that stood in Hermione's backyard, but Hermione's looked more like a conglomeration of bent sticks with an unamusing blob plopped on top. Jeremy's sketch came complete with shading and the leaves around the nest actually looked like they were rustling in the wind.

"I'm not changing the subject," he said with a grin. His curly chestnut hair was close-cropped, a recent change in his appearance that made Hermione's stomach feel tight. "How many inches of rainfall does the Sahara get every year?"

"Half of the Sahara receives less than one inch a year. The other half gets about four. You asked a question, and now I have to." She pursed her lips and looked at him expectantly.

He laughed. "So smart," he said. "I guess that's why your secret boarding school wanted you so bad. They're probably training you to be an international spy or something." He lay back on the grass, leaning on his elbows. Hermione sat still, watching him with her legs crossed.

When he realized she was not going to respond, he rolled his eyes. "It's just, you get so into your head when you can't do something better than other people," he finally confessed. "So I ask you questions about things I don't know. Of course, you know the answer and immediately feel better about yourself. Plus, I learn something new." He shrugged then closed his eyes, letting the sun warm him. The sky could barely be called overcast, which was practically a weather anomaly in England.

Hermione was not sure what to do with this information. On the one hand, it felt like he was manipulating her emotions. By misdirecting her, Jeremy was making her give up on trying to get better. Yet, Hermione felt herself blush. It felt...nice. Like he was protecting her from spiraling into herself.

"And how long did you expect me to not notice this?" she asked after a pause.

"I reckon I'd have to do it the rest of my life," Jeremy responded with another grin in her direction. Hermione's face felt hot.

"You assume we'll be friends forever? That's bold, considering I don't do well with competition."

Jeremy and Hermione laughed together. He sat up again and reached his hand out to her. She took it gladly, noting the ways her palms sweat. She blamed it on the summer heat.

"As long as you don't chuck me for some international spy who knows how to sing," Jeremy teased. "God knows how terrible your singing is. I don't think you'll be able to handle _that_ competition."

Hermione gripped his hand harder, the corners of her eyes creasing as her lips pulled into a wry smile. In that moment, with her only Muggle friend, she felt happy to have someone to protect her from herself. She was glad to have a friend who was willing to overlook what all the other kids - Muggles and wizards alike - tortured her about. Books had been her friend, first and foremost, but Jeremy Gayle threatened a close second.

Of course, as Hermione became more involved with Harry and Ron, she lost touch with Jeremy. She spent her holidays at the Burrow or Grimmauld Place. She heard updates about her Muggle friend from her parents. _Jeremy Gayle has been accepted to an amazing technology program in America! Jeremy Gayle has started working for a computer software company in America - he's designing technology! Jeremy Gayle has created his own software company - _really_, Hermione, you should send him a letter. He's become quite successful!_ But Hermione could never put pen to paper for her oldest friend. She couldn't bear losing their final moments together. She had changed so drastically since they were children, and she was sure he had too. How could she explain to him that she, too, was incredibly successful in the Wizarding world? She was a war hero and the head of a government unknown to the Muggle world. She could never tell him about her own accomplishments.

And, deep down, Hermione Granger still had her nasty competitive streak.


	2. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter

Hermione was crying.

It wasn't like she hadn't done so before, but, for some reason, she thought Hogwarts would be different. She thought she would be accepted by her peers for once. That they would appreciate the late nights she spent studying, or the way she tried her hardest in class.

_It's no wonder no one can stand her. She's a nightmare, honestly. _

Her sobs echoed across the bathroom, bouncing off the porcelain curled into a ball against a bathroom stall, the cold stone uncomfortable under her rear.

Of course, she wasn't _friends_ with Ron and Harry, per se, but she had thought she could be considered an acquaintance - at the very least, someone they wouldn't complain about. She thought back to her days at her Muggle primary school. She thought about the snickers, the way the other students would scooch away from her in the dining hall at lunch. She was a social pariah. She was always the butt of the joke. She was a walking textbook.

She _was_ a nightmare.

Suddenly, she was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the door opening. She did not want company. Hermione rubbed her nose with her sleeve and patted her hair down, which was frizzier than normal, probably due to her stress.

She listened closely, trying to ascertain who had entered. There was a low grumble and a soft _click_. Without warning, the walls around her crashed down. Covering her head with her arms, she screamed. She pulled herself to a nearby wall - the wall furthest from the door, she realized too late - and looked at her attacker.

Towering above her, club in hand, the mountain troll watched Hermione press her back to the wall. Her knees wobbled. She had never seen anything so terrifying - or disgusting, if she was being honest. The stench of the creature made her eyes water and she put her arm over her nose and mouth to avoid breathing the odor. She shrank against the wall, her head going fuzzy. The troll stalked towards her, using his club to knock the sinks from their plumbing as it went. The bathroom began to flood. Hermione vaguely noted that her socks were wet and would need to be dried, if she ever got out of this.

"Confuse it!" shouted a voice from behind the troll. Hermione's head swiveled towards the source of the voice and saw Ron and Harry rush into the bathroom, wands drawn. They distracted the troll, but Hermione found herself unable to breathe. She watched in wide-eyed horror as the troll focused on the boys who had been the source of her pain for many hours before.

Hermione felt Harry pulling her away from her spot on the wall, but she couldn't move. She was having trouble processing how the troll entered the castle in the first place, and how these boys had even found her. Mostly, she was shocked that they were trying to save her. If she was such a nightmare, wouldn't it be better to let the troll have her than risk their lives to help her?

Harry, realizing Hermione was lost cause, was a blur of movement as he jumped onto the troll's back. He stuck his wand into its nostril and Hermione slipped down the wall until she was sitting in a puddle on the floor. Ron, thinking quickly, levitated the troll's club above his head. _He seems to be glad for my help now,_ a snide voice said in Hermione's head. But she didn't react, even when the club came down on the troll's skull with a definitie _crack_.

The boys stood back in shock. Hermione stared at the troll, similarly shocked.

"Is it - dead?" she asked.

"I don't think so," Harry responded, his breathing uneven. "I think it's just been knocked out."

And then the professors arrived. Hermione saw Professor McGonagall's white face, filled with anger, directed at the boys. The boys who had saved her. Harry and Ron had saved Hermione from the troll, and yet they stood in front of Professor McGonagall with their heads held low like they had done something wrong.

But they had saved her life.

She had to return the favor.

"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me!"

Hermione was shocked to hear her own voice. She gulped as Professor McGonagall turned on her.

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall strode towards Hermione, and Hermione took a moment to rise to her feet, albeit shakily.

"I went looking for the troll because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own - you know, because I've read all about them." Hermione balled her fists, her knuckles white. She didn't lie to teachers. She had never done so before. Her eyes swept towards Ron and Harry, noting their surprise. This gave her a curious surge of confidence - she would show them that she was more than a teacher's pet. She could live up to the Gryffindor name. She could be brave.

Hermione continued explaining her skewed version of events to Professor McGonagall and the other professors, emphasizing the severity of the timing of the situation. Of course, Professor McGonagall chided her, and took away precious House Points. Hermione was ashamed, and when she was dismissed she left quickly.

Returning to the Gryffindor common room, Hermione waited for Ron and Harry. She was going to thank them properly, she decided. _They saved my life,_ she thought. _I owe them a proper thanks_.

But when they arrived, winded from the whole excursion, Hermione froze.

"Thanks," she muttered. They returned the sentiments and they all went their separate ways to gather the food they missed from the Feast.

Later that night, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that she was happy. She didn't understand why - she had been cornered by a dangerous creature that could have killed her, been chewed out by Professor McGonagall, _and _lost House Points all in one night. Butshe still grinned as she thought about how Harry's wand had been covered in boogers and Ron had looked almost as impressed with his spellwork as Hermione had been. The next morning at breakfast, Hermione sat next to Harry. Instead of shifting away from her, he greeted her and integrated her into the conversation. She found herself laughing when Ron and Harry retold the story of the mountain troll to the other Gryffindors, and was especially proud when Ron clapped her on the back - rather brusquely, admittedly - when he recounted how Hermione had lied to Professor McGonagall in order to "save all our arses."


	3. Viktor Krum

The day was cold and dreary. Hermione looked at the grey winter sky from her table in the library, the one that was placed next to the grand window overlooking the lake. The Durmstrang boat bobbed on the surface of the lake, its sails billowing in the December wind. Even though term finals were through, Hermione was studying up on subjects she was _sure _she would be studying next term. On top of that, she was looking into tasks from old Triwizard Tournaments. She thought, hopelessly it seemed after hours of research, she could find something about a golden egg in a past Tournament.

Her eyes scanned a page in _Deadliest Games and Pranks_, looking for something that would help her understand what the next clue was. She wanted to help Harry, no matter how frustrated she was at Harry's perceived nonchalance towards the Tournament. Her nose was practically touching the page when she heard a gruff _hem_ next to her.

Hermione's head swiveled towards the noise and her eyes instantly narrowed. Viktor Krum was wearing and Bulgarian Quidditch jumper and khakis, several books under his arms - arms that Hermione thought looked more like tree trunks.

"Can I help you?" Hermione said, disdain in her voice. Viktor's dark eyes widened in shock before he regained his composure.

"Vould you mind if I sat with you?" Viktor asked. "Everyvhere else seems to be… _ahem_… taken." He looked pointedly at the tables surrounding Hermione. She scanned the room and, sure enough, the girls who had been intently watching Viktor moments before turned their eyes to the books and parchments in front of them. Viktor gave a small chuckle. "I promise I vill not be a bother."

Hermione gave a small nod and Viktor took a seat next to her. He opened a book, a novel that Hermione recognized as _Pride and Prejudice_. He began to read almost as fast as Hermione did, flipping the pages every minute or so. He devoured the book, so focused that Hermione had to laugh.

"A bit of light reading, then?" she said.

Viktor looked away from his book, met her eyes, and smiled. He nodded towards her own books, spread out in front of her on the desk. "I could say the same about you," he said. "Vhy are you studying during the holidays?"

"Oh, just trying to help Harry," Hermione said before she realized that Viktor was a Champion, too. She paused before snapping, "And before you ask, I'm not helping you too."

Viktor laughed in earnest. He quieted, though, when Madam Pince caught his eye and glared at him. "As helpful as I think you might be, Hermy-own-ninny, I haff already figured out the next clue. I haff also thought about vhat I vill do," he said proudly. "I haff studied for this. I am prepared."

Hermione was shocked. "You studied for the task?" she asked, completely ignoring the way he butchered the pronunciation of her name. "No one made you? You're not going to wait until the last minute and just hope for the best?"

Viktor smiled and gave a low chuckle. "Vhy vould I do that?" he asked. "This is a dangerous competition and, if I want to win, I must do my research."

It was suddenly like Hermione was in an alternate universe. No longer did she feel as crazy as Ron and Harry had made her seem when she fretted about Harry's life. Here was a world-renowned Quidditch player who was reiterating every thought going through her head. _Yes,_ this was a dangerous competition and _yes_, the only way to win - or not be killed, at the very least - was to do an adequate amount of research.

"So, you know what the next task is?" Hermione asked, leaning toward Viktor.

Viktor gave her a wry smile and leaned closer to her in return. "I vill not tell you," he responded. "It vould not be fair, I am sorry to say."

Hermione flushed and stuttered. "I- well, yes of course! I didn't mean- I mean, you probably shouldn't tell me." She looked around to see the girls at the surrounding tables glaring at her. She was shocked into silence and Viktor turned to look, too.

"They are just jealous," he said. "They think you are flirting vith me. Perhaps they even think you asked me to the Yule Ball."

If possible, Hermione turned even more red. "I'm not even _thinking _about the Yule Ball," she said. "Much less, thinking about going with you."

Viktor turned his gaze back to Hermione, hurt in his dark eyes. "So, if I vere to ask you, you would not go vith me?" he said quietly.

Hermione was lost for words. Was the most popular boy at Hogwarts truly asking her to the Ball? This felt all too familiar, too similar to a cheesy American romantic comedy where the mousy bookworm that no one looked at twice had stolen the heart of the star athlete, and they shocked everyone by showing up to prom together.

"Erm…." Hermione said non committedly.

Viktor took the hint. He slouched his broad shoulders and looked back at his book. He began reading slower, actively avoiding Hermione's gaze.

"It's just that it's a bit of a shock," Hermione said finally. "I mean, you have all these girls trailing after you and, well, we've never spoken before today."

"I do not speak very much," Viktor said gruffly. He turned away from his book. "And I do not like these other girls who follow me around very much, either. I like that you do not care that I play Quidditch. I like that you study hard. I like that you work hard to help your friends." He stopped himself, still watching her.

Hermione was taken aback. He had noticed all that about her? She had never thought she was outstanding - not outside of the classroom, anyway - but Viktor seemed to really be interested in her. She wondered if he fancied her, then shook that thought away. Of course he must fancy her, at least a little, otherwise he would not have inadvertently asked her to the Yule Ball. The thought made her head fuzzy. Heat spread through her chest and upper arms.

Of course, Hermione had been hoping to go with someone else. But after what Ron had said implied earlier - _he would rather go with the best-looking girl who would have him, even if she was completely horrible_ \- she knew he wasn't thinking about taking Hermione. She was far from the best-looking girl, no matter how nice her personality was. Ron wouldn't be asking her anytime soon, she was sure.

"Ask me again," she said to Viktor. "Properly."

Viktor didn't hesitate. "Hemy-own-ninny," he said, "vould you go to the Yule Ball vith me?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, I would like that," she replied. "It's _Her-my-oh-nee_, by the way."

Viktor's face scrunched in concentration. "Her-_my_-own-nin-ny," he said. Hermione laughed.

"Close enough."

**AN: Hey everybody! I'm so happy to see that you're all enjoying this story! It's nice to know that I'm not just submitting my words into the void and getting nothing in return lol. I have some ideas for my next story, but I've been thinking about writing another drabble similar to this one – seven time a character felt something, and all that. Sooooo leave me a message with what character you'd like to see next. I was thinking about doing something with Ron, but I'm open to suggestions (and maybe getting out of my little Romione love bubble haha). Review please!**


	4. Ron Weasley (again)

"Where the _hell_ have you been?"

Hermione pivoted to look at Harry, breathless. She tightened her grip on the basilisk fangs in her arms. Harry came towards her and Ron, glasses askew. Debris covered his mussed hair and unkempt clothes. Hermione thought vaguely about how she would have to iron them. He had worn them for so long during their hunt and they needed a good washing.

"Chamber of Secrets," Ron said. He was breathless, too. Hermione grinned up at him.

Harry skidded to a stop at Ron's words, face-to-face with his oldest friends. Hermione couldn't stop thinking about how old he looked, suddenly. How the creases in his forehead were more pronounced and the lines around his mouth seem to stand out on his gaunt face.

"Chamber - _what?_"

"It was Ron, all Ron's idea!" Hermione exclaimed, looking at her redheaded friend with pride. "Wasn't it absolutely brilliant?" She explained how Ron had thought of the basilisk, dried up in the Chamber that hadn't been opened since their second year. The basilisk venom must still be viable, and it could help destroy the last of the Horcruxes. She beamed with pride as Ron gurgled out a hissing noise, showing Harry how the two of them had entered the Chamber in the first place.

Harry was stunned, and, frankly, so was Hermione. She had known she fancied Ron for a while, but ever since he had returned to them in the woods, she couldn't stop thinking about how she felt when he was gone. Her chest was empty, the sun didn't shine as bright. Ron was, quite literally, the light in her life. He made her smile and made her happy. Most importantly, he challenged her beliefs. In a million years, she never would have thought that _Ron Weasley _would come up with a plan to destroy the Horcruxes, much less be able to execute it. She had underestimated him, all this time.

Hermione looked at Ron in wonder as the trio climbed the stairs to the Room of Requirement three at a time. There, they met Tonks, Ginny, and, strangely, Neville's grandmother. After parting ways, Ron spoke again. Hermione, knowing full well not to underestimate him again, listened closely.

"We've forgotten someone!" he said.

"Who?" she replied. Checking off a mental list, she could not seem to focus on any one name in particular who might be missing or in need of help.

"The house-elves, they'll all be down in the kitchen, won't they?"

"You mean we ought to get them fighting?" Harry asked.

Ron's face was worried. Hermione saw the lines forming around his eyes. He had aged too. "No, I mean we should tell them to get out. We don't want any more Dobbies, do we? We can't order them to die for us-"

Hermione couldn't think any longer. She dropped the basilisk fangs that had ben clutched in her arms and ran at Ron. He stepped back defensively, sure she was going to attack him, but she threw her arms around his neck and pushed her lips into his, hard. His lips were dry, probably from lack of nutrition and stress, but, at that moment, Hermione could not care. He had become… thoughtful. He cared about the house-elves, without her pressuring him to. She heard a clatter as objects fell from Ron's arms and, suddenly, she was lifted off her feet as Ron's arm circled around her lower waist. He kissed her back, with as much passion as she had. She put eleven years of love into her kiss and she felt him return the same amount.

This was it.

Finally, _finally_, she was kissing Ron. She was holding him in a way she had always wanted to. Her hands crept into his red locks, pressing him closer to her and he squeezed her waist. In that moment, there was no battle, there was no Voldemort. She only existed for Ron and he for her.

"OI! There's a war going on here!"

At Harry's exclamation, the two broke apart. Hermione went red in the face, but Ron tightened his grip on her. She kept her arms around his neck, looking up at him as though he was a new man. He was different from the boy who had called her a nightmare all those years before. He was different from the boy who took too long to realize that Hermione was, in fact, a girl. He was even different than the boy who had been enchanted by the locket and succumbed to its power, leaving his two best friends behind to fend for themselves. Instead, Ron Weasley was a hero – he was a man who now thought about others.

And, Hermione thought giddily, he was a man who thought about her.

**AN: Ugh, who doesn't love some Romione action? I had a lot of difficulty writing the next chapter (I rewrote three times – oops), so I'm sorry for the delay of this chapter! Keep reviewing because it makes me :) and want to finish this story even faster. **


	5. Mr and Mrs Granger

Australia was hotter than Hermione thought it would be. Reasonably, she knew it would be hot and she dressed appropriately - a light t-shirt with jean shorts and her favorite sandals - but the sweat that ran down the back of her knees made her cringe. She wasn't used to this weather.

But everything was new today. She wasn't a child anymore. Her hair was plaited down her back, something she had rarely done before. And she was about to perform a new spell, a spell she had never even attempted. Books could only teach her so much, after all.

Hermione stood alone in front of her parents' home. It was a small cottage, painted blue with a yellow door and wrap-around porch. The front lawn was littered with brightly colored flowers. It reminded her of their home back in England, and she smiled sadly. Even without their memories, Hermione's parents still had the same taste in home design.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before striding towards the front door. She had to do it now, before she lost her nerve. She had sat in her hotel room for two days already, desperately trying to form an eloquent speech that would make her parents understand why she had had to remove them from her life. More importantly, why she had had to remove herself from their lives. Nothing she came up with seemed right, though. She couldn't put into words how dangerous the situation had been a year ago, and it was even harder to explain all that she had been through without them.

With her hand on the knocker, she paused. She could still turn around. She could try again tomorrow. She did not have to reverse the charm today.

But then she thought about how long she had already waited. It had been a month since the Battle of Hogwarts, a month of grief. It was a selfish desire, to find some comfort in the midst of all the loss, but she also knew that it was selfish to keep her parents waiting. They were stuck in other lives, not fully themselves. Without their memories, they were not whole.

She knocked three times and stepped back. Their silver car was in the driveway. Hermione hoped she would find them during tea time, happily sipping cold iced tea. They would be talking about one ordeal or another at the office, or the current political climate of a country they had only lived in for a year. Perhaps they would be making plans to stay. Perhaps they would stay even after their memories were returned.

The door opened slowly and Hermione's eyes met her mother's. She was tanner and her hair was lighter. Her curly hair fell about her shoulders in a way that Hermione's own frizzy hair could never manage. Her mother smiled.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes, I...erm," Hermione began. She was lost for words. Even after planning for their meeting, she never thought about how shocked she would actually be to see her mother. She wanted nothing more than to hug her, to be comforted in her arms. "My car broke down, you see. Just up the road a bit and I was wondering if I could use your phone."

It was a lame lie. She was never good at lying to her parents.

"Of course," her mother said. She opened the door so that Hermione could come into the house. Hermione obliged and her mother shut the door behind her. "I'm sorry about your car, but I'm sure it will be fixed in no time. The telephone is just through the kitchen - I'll show you."

Hermione followed her mother through the sitting room. She looked at the pictures hung on the wall and saw, with a pang of hurt, that she was not in any of them. Of course she wouldn't be. These people - the Wilkins' - had no idea who she was. They had no daughter.

When they entered the kitchen, Hermione saw her father sat in their breakfast nook. He was reading a newspaper - one that Hermione did not recognize. He looked up as they entered, and nodded in acknowledgement. He had gotten new reading glasses.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," her mother said.

"It's Hermione," she responded.

"What a pretty name, isn't it dear?" her mother said, turning to her father. Her father put down his newspaper and smiled.

"We used to have a cat named Hermione, didn't we Monica?" he said. "Bright animals, cats."

"Yes, and we couldn't bear to have another cat after we'd lost her," her mother responded. "She was so dear to us."

Hermione felt another pang. _A cat?_ In their warped memories, they had turned their daughter into a housepet?

Her mother showed Hermione the phone and sat next to her husband. They began talking to themselves, leaving Hermione to call for services she didn't require. Instead of dialing the telephone, Hermione turned to them both and waved her wand.

The effect was instantaneous. Her parents both froze in shock. Her father's hands flew to his temples, and her mother gripped the table in front of her. Their eyes shut tight like they were in pain. Hermione rushed towards them, scared she had hurt them. She thought the spell hadn't worked.

But then her mother opened her eyes. They were clearer than before, like the sky had opened and the clouds from behind them were dispelled. She looked at Hermione, scared. Her father removed his reading glasses, looking between his wife and his daughter. Hermione stayed standing, watching her parents in silence.

"H-Hermione?" her mother asked. "What's going on?" Her knuckles were white from gripping the table so hard.

"Mum?" Hermione asked slowly. "Dad?"

Both her parents were looking at her now, scared and confused. Hermione's breathing was ragged and heart raced. Her fingers clenched against her wand.

"Hermione what are you doing here?" her father asked. "Where have you been? What did you do to us?" His forehead was red and sweaty, and his words cut through Hermione. He was angry now. Hermione's mother's mouth was pursed.

"I had to protect you," Hermione blurted out. "There was war, but it's over now. I had to make you safe."

"Safe from what?" her mother asked. "Why weren't we safe?"

"Just, please don't be mad," Hermione said. "Please let me explain. You can't be mad."

But her father pushed his chair away from the table and stood facing Hermione. His whole face was red now. "Hermione, what was so bad that you felt you had to _erase yourself _from our lives?" he bellowed. Hermione knew that he was scared, but she had to press on. Her parents were logical people. Once they knew the facts - once they knew that there was no other option - they would understand. They _had_ to understand.

"Dad, please," Hermione begged, her voice strained. "Let me explain. So much has happened and I couldn't risk you getting hurt."

"Sit down, Norman," her mother commaded. She was sitting still, her eyes on Hermione. Her face was blotched with red, but she had loosened her hold on the table. Her husband sat down next to her and put his hand in one of hers. Slowly, Hermione sat too.

"I've told you about Voldemort," Hermione began. "I've told you about who he is and what he's done. I've told you about how he was coming back and what he would do if he regained power." Her parents nodded, so Hermione continued. "This past year, he waged war on both the magical and Muggle worlds. He was after my friend and he - all of us - had to go into hiding. I had to hide you too, you see. I had to hide you so that he wouldn't hurt you just to get to me."

"He was after you?" Her mother asked quietly.

"I couldn't risk him hurting you," Hermione continued. Her voice was thick and her vision became blurred with tears. "H-he killed so many people. My friends. Even Muggles, for the fun of it. Ron's whole family had to go into hiding, too. It's just, you were more exposed. You both needed to be far away. That was the only way he couldn't get to you."

She paused. Her parents were listening attentively.

"We - Harry, Ron, and I - had to stop him. It was up to us. For months, we camped out in the woods looking for ways to kill Voldemort. And...and we did it!" Hermione was breathless now. It seemed to hit her all at once. Voldemort was gone. This was the end of it.

"You killed him?" her father asked. His expression was unreadable, but his face was no longer red.

"Not me, not really," Hermione said. "He had these things called Horcruxes. They're made with Dark Magic. He created them to store bits of his soul away so that if he was killed, he could just be reborn. We had to destroy them all and then Harry-"

Hermione stopped herself. How could she explain that killing Voldemort was the only way of truly stopping him? Living in the Muggle world had taught her of the emphasis placed on human life. It was wrong to end anyone's life. But Voldemort…

"It was the only way to stop him," Hermione finished. "Everything he did - it was unforgivable. And he was so powerful. I'm sorry that I had to hide you. I'm sorry that I was gone for so long and I reckon you won't be able to forgive me - not fully, anyway. But, I hope that you won't be furious with me. At least, not forever. Because ever since I had to let you go, well, I've wanted you to come back."

The three Grangers sat in silence. Hermione was sure they were bubbling with questions. Her parents watched her carefully, not giving anything away. Her mother's eyes were glistening with tears.

"We're not furious," her mother said. Her father looked at her and she shot him a look. "We can't be. Everything you've done. It's scary. I'm scared, but not _of_ you, dear. I'm scared that you were alone and we couldn't be there for you." Her mother choked back a sob. "We're your _parents_. We should be there for you."

Hermione realized that she was crying too. Tears spilled from her eyes one after the other. Didn't her mother understand? She had to protect _them_, not the other way around. They were too vulnerable in this magical war.

"Mum, really," Hermone said. "You two being alive - that's all I cared about. If I had...lost you…"

She couldn't finish her thought. Her father reached across to touch her hand and they met eyes. He smiled at her. "Hermione, I am so proud of you," he said.

Hermione smiled through her tears. Her parents were alive, and they were happy. They weren't angry that she had taken their memories. They had missed her as much as she missed them.

The three Grangers spent the rest of the night laughing and crying with each other. Hermione and her mother made dinner - Hermione's cooking skills that she had picked up during the Horcrux hunt were not exactly expert - and her mother taught her a new recipe she would _have _to cook for Ron. She listened to her parents talk about their time in Australia and she shared her own stories of the past year in return. Hermione was happy and she was forgiven.


	6. Ron Weasley (third time's the charm)

**AN: Prepare for a looooooooong chapter**.

Hermione smoothed the ruffles on her dress before she looked in the mirror. Her hair flowed around her shoulders, the tiny tendrils of curls framing her face. The hair potion that had showed her usually unruly curls was supposed to last twenty-four hours. Fleur had performed several very good charms on her face to give her perfect makeup that would stay on all day. It was going to be a full day, after all, and Hermione should not have to worry about her makeup or her hair or her dress or her shoes or her guests or her fiancé waiting for her down the aisle.

Today was her and Ron's wedding day. Three years after the war and almost fifteen years after they had first met, here Hermione was, waiting to see the man she had promised to love for the rest of her life.

And all she could think about was her dress.

"It's creasing." She turned to her Maid of Honor. "Ginny, it's creasing and it won't stay flat!" Hermione's voice was full of panic.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You, my dear, are freaking out," she said. The redhead was sliding her foot into a silver heel. Next to her, Luna was putting on large silver earrings while staring fixedly in her own vanity mirror. Fleur was running a comb through her glossy hair for the hundredth time.

"I'm not _freaking out_!" Hermione squeaked. "Please, just, fix it!"

Ginny walked over to Hermione, shaking slightly in her heels. Her periwinkle dress swayed around her knees. She ran her hands across Hermione's dress, smoothing the fine lines that Hermione was focusing her energy on. When she felt the lines were sufficiently smoother, she stood back to look at Hermione. The dress was simple. Her white, lacy sleeves fell off her shoulders and reached down to her wrists. The bodice was lace as well, in laid with a shimmery material that was not too over-the-top (Hermione did not want to be a flashy bride, after all). The dress cinched at the waist and the skirt fell to the ground, a pure white material overlaid with light lace. When she had tried it on in the shop, Hermione had felt like a princess. She had to remind herself that today was the day she was allowed to be a princess.

"Better?" Ginny asked, hand on hip as she surveyed her friend's dress for more wrinkles.

Hermione turned back to the mirror to survey herself. "Yes, I think so," she said. She wanted everything to be perfect. She had been researching weddings for months, which proved to be harder work than most of the subjects she had studied at Hogwarts. Not only were wizard weddings completely foreign to Hermione, but she wanted to find a way to input Muggle traditions into her wedding, as well. The planning had driven her crazy a few times, but Ron and Ginny's help had made it a bit easier. They were especially good at the taste-testing. After Mrs. Weasley had gotten involved, things had seemed to fall into place. The woman had a certain eye for detail for big events that Hermione did not always have.

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley bustled into Hermione's dressing room, clad in a jam-colored dress. Hermione's mother trailed behind her in an eggplant-colored dress. Hermione felt relieved that they had stuck to the purple and silver color scheme she had so desperately wanted.

Hermione's mother rushed to Hermione's side, tears in her eyes. "Your father is waiting outside," she said, running her fingers through her daughter's hair. "You look dazzling, honey."

Hermione blushed. She held her mother's hand and kissed her cheek. "Some people say I get it from you," Hermione responded with a smile. Her mother batted her away.

Mrs. Weasley was rattling off a list of guests who had recently arrived to Ginny. Ginny was barely listening to her mother, electing to apply another layer of mascara instead.

"How are the boys?" Hermione asked Mrs. Weasley. Her stomach flipped as she thought about seeing Ron, her handsome Ron, wearing dress robes for _her_. She was sure he was just as nervous as she was. All she wanted to do was see him and laugh about all this craziness together. She hadn't seen him since he had left their flat promptly at 11:59 the night before. He was very superstitious about seeing the bride on her wedding day. _We've had enough bad luck, love,_ he had said._ No use adding more._

"Harry's hair won't sit flat, Neville is practicing walking in his shoes - keeps complaining they're too tight, which is absolute nonsense, if you ask me - and George keeps changing the color of his suit from periwinkle to lavender to mess with Ron's nerves," Mrs. Weasley huffed. "Honestly, these boys must not realize what a big day this is. Ginny, you have bruises all over you! You'd think you could take it easier on the Quidditch pitch this week. Here, let me clear those up for you-"

As Mrs. Weasley disillusioned the bruises from Ginny's body, Hermione's stomach tightened. Ron was nervous? What kind of nervous? Butterflies nerves like Hermione had, or leave-Hermione-at-the-altar nerves?

"Ron's nervous?" Hermione squeaked. Her wide eyes traveled to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ron as he ran out of the house they had rented for the wedding, sprinting to escape Hermione and the rest of their guests.

Ginny escaped her mother's grasp and came next to Hermione. The redhead grabbed the brunette's face in her hands, turning Hermione's face towards her.

"Stop thinking what you're thinking," she said threateningly. "No panicking on you wedding day."

Hermione laughed a bit too loudly. Her mother squeezed her hand.

"Everyone is nervous on their wedding day," her mother said. "It tends to be a bit stressful, but you have all of us to help you."

"Oh yes, I've already saged the ceremony area to ward off Lollybills," Luna said. "They're attracted to happy occasions, you know."

"Zair is no reason to worry, 'Ermione," Fleur said, floating over to join the group surrounding Hermione. "At my wedding, I was worried, too. It is natural to feel ze butterflies, but zat just means that you are excited. Plus, it is over so soon and you will wish you could relive it again and again." Fleur gazed softly outside at the flower-covered archway and smiled, no doubt reminiscing on her wedding.

_Look at how well Fleur and Bill's wedding went,_ Hermione thought snidely.

"I'm not worried, I just- I want to know how Ron is," Hermione said sternly.

Mrs. Weasley leaned against a vanity to rub her foot. "Ron is excited to see you," she said. "He asked me what your dress looked like. Of course, I couldn't tell him." She smiled knowingly and Hermione's heart lifted. Of course Ron wouldn't run. He had wanted this wedding just as much as Hermione had. He was the one telling her that her nerves leading up to the wedding was just stress from planning, not cold feet.

"It's time to go now," Hermione's mother said. "Let's line up, everyone!"

The women shuffled into the hall outside. Hermione met up with her father and held fast to his arm. It would be over before she knew it. It would be over before she wanted it to be.

Hermione watched as her bridesmaids had walked arm-in-arm with each of the groomsmen. First, Fleur and George, who, evidently, had finally decided on periwinkle (probably after Mrs. Weasley had chided him). Then, Luna and Neville walked out. Finally, Harry and Ginny, who looked positively exuberant that the next wedding would be theirs. Ginny's engagement ring gleamed on her finger as she wrapped her arm with Harry's. Before they exited the building, Harry had given Hermione an encouraging wink. It had made her feel much better.

Then, Hermione's entrance music began. Her arm clutched tight at her father's arm. She looked up at him nervously.

"I made sure his feet were planted in front of that altar before I came to get you," her father joked. Hermione smiled slightly.

The doors opened and Hermione smelled the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers and the Spring breeze. She began walking gingerly.

Then she saw him. Barely fifty steps in front of her, Ron stood looking at her with his mouth slightly agape. His black dress robes was perfectly pressed and even his periwinkle pocket square was neatly tucked. Hermione couldn't remember the last time he looked so polished. He tended to prefer his Chudley Canons boxers and an old t-shirt when he was home, and all of his Auror robes were shabby with use. As Hermione got closer, she noticed that his hair had been styled, too. What a strange sight.

At the foot of the altar, Hermione dropped her father's arm and grabbed for Ron's hands instead. Her palms were sweaty, but his were sweatier. She giggled a bit at this and he did too. His neck was twinged red, probably from all the eyes on them. Ron's family was huge, of course, but Hermione hadn't realized how many people they would have to invite. Filling out the invitations took days, and now there were over a hundred people sitting in front of them. Hermione met eyes with Professor McGonagall, who nodded approvingly. She saw Hagrid's shaggy head, already sobbing. Kingsley was smiling at the couple. Viktor Krum gave her a thumbs up. Even Ron's Aunt Marge was watching them in awed silence. Hermione's eyes returned to Ron's blue ones as the wizard next to them began the ceremony.

Where the ceremony was emotional, the reception was raucous. Hermione was handed another champagne flute by a waiter, which she promptly began to drink. Music floated from everywhere, it seemed. The food never stopped flowing and, thankfully, neither did the drinks. Hermione heard another toast thrown in her and Ron's direction and the happy couple looked to each other before linking arms to drink the rest of their champagne.

Ron had loosened his tie and his hair was slightly out of place. Hermione was sure she looked no better, but hoped her face wasn't as flushed as Ron's. He turned to Harry and laughed loudly, still holding Hermione's hand. Everyone's spirits were high.

"As much fun as I'm having," Ron murmured in her ear, "I'd much rather start our honeymoon right now."

Hermione blushed furiously. "_Ronald_," she protested, but the grin she wore would not wipe off her face.

"Oh, come off it," he laughed. "You're gorgeous and now you're all mine. Can't get away from me, I'm afraid."

"I think you're drunk, love," Hermione said. She kissed him lightly and heard a chorus of "Cheers!" around them. She giggled and he laughed before kissing her again.

A glass clinked and Harry stood, champagne glass in hand. He cast _Sonorous_ on himself before he started speaking.

"I was told I would have to give a speech at this thing," Harry said. His tie had come off completely and there was a lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt. Hermione gave Ginny a look, but the redhead just grinned back at her. "I suppose I'm the best man for the job. I introduced these two, you know.

"Fifteen years ago, Hermione was a bossy know-it-all and Ron was some freckled git who had some dirt on his nose. It was obvious to everyone but them that they were in love practically from the moment they met. They argued with each other every chance they had, and sometimes went weeks without speaking. They're both stubborn, so it's no wonder they put off dating for so long. Ron once said to me that Hermione needed to sort out her priorities. It seems she rather has now, mate." Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. "To my best friends, the happy couple, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger-Weasley!"

The crowd stood and all of them raised their glasses. Hermione and Ron beamed before kissing each other, rather roughly. The alcohol and the festivities buoyed their confidence. Hermione didn't quite care that their families, professors, and friends were all watching. She loved this man, and she was so glad he had proved to have a wider emotional range than a teaspoon.


	7. The Family

One day. Just _one_ day was all Hermione wanted. One day without other people looking to her as though she had all the answers in the world. She supposed it was because, more often than not, she did have the answers.

But that was beside the point.

The point was that she couldn't even sit peacefully in a hospital bed in St. Mungo's without receiving an owl from the Ministry once an hour, or a panicked Patronus message from Ron about where Hugo's naptime blanket was, or Ginny stopping by to complain that Harry has done one thing or another and if he didn't watch his step Ginny would _curse his bollocks off and put them on a shelf for all the houseguests to see, so help me_.

Hermione's side cramped and she winced in pain. After a particularly bad day at the office the day before, she had been on her way home when Harry asked her to run on a mission with him. Neither of them ever went in the field anymore, so the excitement at doing something dangerous was tantalizing enough that Hermione decided to go. Besides, she missed going on adventures with Harry. As they'd gotten older and gained more responsibilities, it was hard to be reckless like they were when they were at Hogwarts.

So they went into the field in search of a wizard rumored to be selling Dark objects to teenagers. The mission seemed to be going well until he threw an exploding Chocolate Frog at Hermione. In the confusion, they had lost the wizard and Harry had promptly rushed Hermione to St. Mungo's.

At first, she had protested. The wind had been knocked out of her, nothing more. But the Healers made her stay overnight anyway. When Hermione began to lose the contents of her stomach in the middle of the night, she was forced to agree that there might be _something_ wrong with her.

Ron had taken the day off work that day so he could sit with her. The Healers were not exactly sure what was wrong with the Minister of Magic, which worried Hermione and had thrown Ron into anguish. He had barely left her side since she had arrived.

"This is almost as bad as our second year," he said, holding his wife's hand. "Y'know when you were Petrified and all I could do was sit up at night thinking about you."

"Or when you were poisoned in fifth year," Hermione said, smiling sadly. "I came to visit you every day for as long as Madam Pomfrey would let me."

"She was a harsh old bird," Ron said, shuddering.

"Yes, well she often had a lot to deal with," Hermione responded. "After all, at least one of us would have an extended stay in the Hospital Wing every year."

They were both quiet for a moment. Ron sat on the edge of Hermione's bed, caressing her hand softly. Hermione watched his forehead crease with worry.

"Do you ever miss it?" Hermione asked quietly. "The adventures we used to have?"

Ron smiled a bit, caught in his thoughts of Hogwarts.

"Who knew you were such an adrenaline junkie, 'Mione?" he responded. He leaned over her to kiss her forehead.

Hermione batted him away with a smile of her own. "Oh, come off it!" she said with a laugh. "Remember that time you were nearly impaled by the Whomping Willow after flying your father's car into it? I mean, really, who _does_ that?"

The two laughed. "Or the time you turned yourself into a cat?" Ron teased. "You had very pretty ears."

Hermione hit his shoulder. "Oi! That wasn't fun," she reprimanded. He was laughing hard now, clutching his shoulder.

"I think I liked all the times you kissed me best," Ron said, leaning over Hermione and kissing her softly.

He pulled away, resting his forehead on hers. "I think you're confusing me with your other birds," she teased.

"Mm, maybe that was just a dream I had," he said, kissing her with a smile on his lips. He sat back up and stroked Hermione's hair. "And to answer your question, yeah I miss it. I miss doing stupid things and, for whatever reason, getting House Points instead of getting expelled."

"We weren't expelled because Harry was Dumbledore's favorite," Hermione corrected him, catching his hand in her own while he stroked her cheek. She turned her face and kissed his palm.

"Ah, riding on his coattails again," Ron said with a laugh. The couple locked eyes and Ron reached in for another kiss.

As their lips met, the door to Hermione's room opened. "Now, this isn't appropriate for the tots," Ginny said. Hugo and Rose rushed in to see their mother. Harry stood watching with baby Lily in his arms. Ginny swatted at James and Albus, who were pushing each other to get a better look at their aunt. Rose and Hugo jumped on Hermione's bed to cuddle with her. Ron hopped off the bed to let them have more room, but he still held Hermione's hand.

"Mum, Rose said you have a scar," Hugo said as he nestled into Hermione's side. "Can I see it?"

"I didn't say that!" Rose protested from her mother's other side. "I said she _could_ have a scar." The young girl turned to look at Hermione. "If you do have a scar, you'd let us see it, right?"

Hermione snuggled her children closer to her. "No, I don't have a scar, but if I did I'd let you see it, of course," she said. She lifted her head to look at Ginny and Harry. "Thank you for watching them. Ron refuses to leave my side." She shot her husband a playful look and he turned red.

"I'm sure he's just hoping you don't find a good-looking Healer to leave him for," Harry teased. Ginny elbowed him and he doubled over. Ron shot him a hateful look.

"Mm, there was a very nice looking wizard who brought me dinner earlier," Hermione mused. Ron turned his attention from Harry to Hermione, a desperate look in his eyes. Hermione grinned at him before turning back to her children. "And what did you two eat for dinner with Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry?"

The children began to tell her about Ginny's terrible cooking - she scoffed at this - and how Harry had saved the night by making them breakfast for dinner. Hermione didn't approve of sweets so late in the day, but she supposed this counted as a special occasion.

The family began to talk about their day, bickered about the latest Quidditch scores, and talked about what they would do tomorrow. The whole time Hermione sat nestled between her children, her hand in Ron's. Even though she had been hurt, she knew she would be alright eventually. Everything was alright because her family was with her.

**AN: Thank you all for your support! This has been a fun story to write, and I'm working on something new at the moment. Review please, so I'm not just writing to the void (and thank you to all who have already reviewed – you're the GOAT).**


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